


Forgot Something

by catmanu



Category: Men's Football RPF, Political RPF, Political RPF - France 21st c.
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluff, M/M, Macdeau Mentions because I can't help myself, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, artistically subby Manu is a blessing to us all lbr, griezmanu, my most used tags these days lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: Even as President, even as someone whose art was self-control, certain types of beauty got him lost.Thankfully, there were always plans in place.





	Forgot Something

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by today's lengthy award ceremony at the Élysée. Thanks to everyone who Experienced It with me ;)
> 
> I'm a dumb American who knows virtually nothing about any of this (even though the World Cup last year finally got me into This Sport) but the ship is soooo real my friends. If there's OOC, bear with me.

Antoine’s hair had changed since the World Cup.Now he looked somewhat like he’d climbed down from the Sistine Chapel ceiling in order to attend this ceremony at the Élysée.It was as if he’d grown his curls back out for the occasion.They went well with the angles of his face.

Antoine knew what he was doing, he must.

Especially after Giroud’s disdain—of course, he couldn’t and wouldn't let him get under his skin, but it _must_ have showed on camera—the fact that alphabetical order put Antoine next in line was a pure miracle.

Emmanuel felt his smile soften on his face as he pinned the medal over Antoine’s heart.For all the rest of his beautiful team, even his favorites, he’d pinned it on their chests happily, without any need to think about the concept further.When it was time to touch Antoine’s warm, firm chest through his suit, his mind reminded him that he was doing it over his _heart_.And so he was.

When he kissed Antoine’s Sistine Chapel cheeks he couldn’t even dare to whisper anything; the cameras were on him, and cameras were brutal, and their audiences even more so.Not even a _I want you in my mouth_ or another wish, perhaps, for something he wasn’t sure Antoine would be up for.

(His mind flashed briefly to Justin, poor Justin, who wouldn’t understand any of this.He loved so hard it _hurt_ , but in a traditionalist, North American-flavored way.)

(Certain types of love just multiplied when he felt them.The more he dared to let himself feel, when he decided to dare, the more he _could_ feel.)

Even as President, even as someone whose art was self-control, certain types of beauty got him lost.

Thankfully, there were always plans in place.

So instead of a whisper, he gave Antoine a wink.A wink conveyed quite a lot, of course.

 

*

 

“Sir?Mr. Griezmann is here.He says he’s left something, and he thinks it could have been in here, or in the Salle des Fêtes…”

“Oh?Well, I’m glad he realized.He can come in, of course.”

Antoine stepped into the reception room, his cheeks a little pink.Emmanuel felt a twitching feeling between his legs.Self-control was a bitch.That was the only way to put it.

“Sorry, Mr. President, but I think I left my, uhhh—"

He signaled with his head for the door to be shut.It was good to have a couple of people around to trust.Just a couple, no more.

“What did you leave behind, Antoine?I don’t think I saw anything.”He winked again.

“Oh, I didn’t _leave anything_ behind, Mr. President.I forgot something.”

“Well…”Emmanuel let breathlessness creep into his voice.It was so difficult when they were this…well-sculpted and blushing.And it was alright, now, to let his heartbeat go wild.“What did you forget, then?”

“I forgot to do _this_.”And Antoine stepped forward.

Who touched whom first, who kissed whom first, it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter…

Their lips met and Antoine backed him into one of the tables with the force of his apparent want.He ran his hand through Antoine’s soft curls and pulled hard, pulling him closer.Antoine ground his erection into his thigh and Emmanuel let a soft moan escape him.Catching up to a 28 year-old on that front sometimes needed some assistance; he undid his belt and let Antoine let his hand wander.

“Seems like you want something,” Antoine murmured, closing his hand around Emmanuel, and he felt himself twitch and grow about fifty times harder in response.He held on tight to the table behind him.“What do you want, Mr. President?”

“None of that.I’m your President in the Salle des Fêtes.”He nipped at Antoine’s lip to make him moan and get the point across.“But not right now.”

“What do you _want_?”In the confined space of his suit, the friction caused by Antoine’s moving hand seemed to increase.He always made fun of Justin for being so… _excitable._ Now he felt some solidarity with his loving Canadian.It turned out he could be the same way.

He said what he’d wanted to say in front of the cameras.

“ _I want you in my mouth_.”

Antoine stepped back and grinned a grin designed to make someone melt.“Then suck my cock, Mr. _Emmanuel._ ”

“What a brat you are, Antoine…”

“They say it takes one to know one, right?”Antoine pushed his bulge against his leg again.“Come on.”

He took Antoine by the hand and brought him to the other side of the table, technically out of view of the door, though still not the best cover if someone unauthorized were to come in.They fell to the floor together.He slapped Antoine’s hands away and pulled his pants down to his knees for him.

“Mmmmm…” he said, staring at Antoine’s cock for a moment.“You didn’t leave _this_ behind, I see.”He wet his lips.

They looked into each other’s eyes the way they had in the Salle des Fêtes.Softly.Passionately.A little shyly, maybe.Well, there was a way to put an end to the shyness.He placed his hands on Antoine’s firm thighs and nudged them further apart, undid his tie and tossed it to the side, and then bowed his head.

“Oh, _fuck,_ Emmanuel…” Antoine gasped as soon as he took him far into his mouth.“It was so hard in there, when you were touching me…It took all I had…”

Emmanuel came back up for air and traced the wet tip of Antoine’s cock with his thumb.“ _Shhhh_ , Antoine.If you talk like that, I’ll want to talk back, and then I can’t do this to you.”

“Fine, fine,” Antoine said, his words getting cut off by a groan as Emmanuel’s mouth returned to his cock.It was thick and hard in his mouth, the vein lovely to run his tongue over, but easier to accommodate than some others he’d had.His hips, moving with complete abandon already, found perfect friction against the carpet and he had to remind himself to keep it together.He couldn’t really make a mess of the Élysée’s historic carpeting.It wasn’t the best presidential legacy.

“Emmanuel, that’s good, yeah, that’s good—Oh, sorry, I forgot you said no talking.”Emmanuel laughed a bit around Antoine’s cock and took it further down his throat.Antoine could easily give his throat a good fucking now if he so chose, make him cough, make him choke—he wouldn’t be opposed. But Antoine didn’t do any of that.His hands followed the softness of his smile.He took Emmanuel’s face and stroked it, gently, exploring its structure like it was the first time. 

No matter how many fantasies he had in which he imagined being fucked by Antoine over a golden Élysée desk, or even more thrillingly in the team’s locker room’s showers, or against the lockers trying desperately to keep quiet, or—At some point in each fantasy, Antoine did something gentle.Like stroke his face, for example.Kiss him.Thank him.Tell him he loved him.

He liked that kind of man.

His Sistine Chapel cherub whimpered and brought him back to the present.“Emmanuel,” Antoine said, the syllables of his name choppy from his ragged breathing.Emmanuel moved his mouth back up to the tip, letting his tongue linger as he did.Antoine was gasping, shaking a little, and he forced himself up onto all fours, depriving himself of the pleasure of the fancy carpet.He was hard as Antoine was and it’d just have to wait.

Antoine was practiced at discretion, as someone who did these kind of things behind closed doors should be, and when he came hard against the roof of Emmanuel’s mouth it was with a soft moan and nothing more.But his hips jerked wildly against Emmanuel, and one of his hands clutched the back of Emmanuel’s head. 

Emmanuel let his tongue swirl over the tip of Antoine’s cock as Antoine’s hips stilled.His stomach was still clenching from his soft gasps, and Emmanuel laid a hand on it.The more beautiful they were, the more they let himself go in the end.Well, he was the same, when he allowed himself to be.

He relaxed his lips and let Antoine’s cock, still weighty on his tongue, fall from his mouth.

Antoine sighed.“You really can do everything, huh.”

“So can you, in your own way.”Antoine held his arms out for a hug, and he crawled into them.While zipping his pants up, of course.Antoine shouldn’t get the wrong impression.

They were still for a moment, or two or three.Antoine still had his jacket on, with the medal pinned over his fast-beating heart.

“We’ve got to wrap this up," Emmanuel said, standing up and helping Antoine up with him.“I have a meeting soon.And if we let this go much longer…”

“Yeah, our professional images and all that other bullshit.”

“Exactly.All that other bullshit.”

Antoine took a good look at the front of him and grinned.

“Damn!  That must be painful.”

“I’ll never say.”

“You’re really just going to walk out of here like that?”

“No, no.You’re going to walk out of here, and I’m going to stay in here like this until I’m…presentable.”

Antoine raised his eyebrows and wiped some sweat from underneath the curls on his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t worry.It won’t take long.I’m used to things like this.”

Antoine grinned again and flexed his fingers.“I could help you out.It would be another victory for France.”

“Not this time.”Emmanuel kissed him goodbye.On each cheek, and then Antoine leaned forward hungrily for one more on the mouth.And as hungry as he was, as they were, he did it sweetly.His mouth tasted sugary, like the pastries he’d eaten earlier at the reception.Emmanuel wished he’d noticed this before.He’d add it to his memories of the afternoon, though.

“Remember, Antoine,” he said, as Antoine turned to go.“You found what you forgot.”

“I sure did.”


End file.
